


Back to Your Roots

by DevilOfWire



Series: DevilOfWire's Kinktober 2020 [18]
Category: Toy Story (Movies)
Genre: Aged-Up Characters, Anal Sex, Bottom Andy, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Fridge Horror, Horror, Humiliation, Humor, I'm Going to Hell, Kinktober 2020, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Top Sid, Toys Revealed, Verbal Humiliation, Wet & Messy, get it like magic revealed but the toys? hahahaha, roleplaying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27097318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilOfWire/pseuds/DevilOfWire
Summary: 18. Petplay| Humiliation |BloodplayLife finds a way, somehow, in the end.Like now, somehow you’re still dating the weirdest, most awful guy in your entire neighbourhood years later, are thinking of moving in with him after college, and are currently pinned down on your childhood bed by that exact guy.And all while the toy watches.If it could watch, that is. Which, of course, it can’t. Because that would be utter nonsense if it could.
Relationships: Andy Davis/Sid Phillips
Series: DevilOfWire's Kinktober 2020 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950421
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	Back to Your Roots

**Author's Note:**

> **IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 DO _NOT_ READ.**
> 
> The actual scene where the toys get their revenge on Sid doesn’t happen in this universe, nor some other stuff in the movies. Maybe it’s cause Sid is a little less completely terrible to his toys? Who knows! :D (But really, it’s cause I didn’t wanna just write out the whole scene, and wanted to make my own thing up. But let’s go with the other thing!) Onto the weird little story!

If you told cowboy-roleplaying, bright-eyed, ambitious Andy Davis that he would end up together with the neighbourhood punk and bully, Sid Phillips from down the street, he would never have believed you, not in a million years.

Doesn’t matter if you told him when he was two, when the terror first moved in—just an adorable toddler then, at least, according to his baby photos.

At four, when their first interaction in pre-school went about as well as you’d expect (in tears and with paint absolutely everywhere).

Ten, when he’d developed a fear so great that he saw Sid’s face in his nightmares, tormenting him with his abominations of toys and drawings, even in his dreams.

Thirteen, when they’d grown old enough that logic prevailed, and Sid stopped being horrifying, and started becoming annoying, instead, especially as it seemed Sid targeted him more than ever.

All the way up to fifteen, before that teasing slowly shifted to flirting—was he flirting? Or was it just another joke? Andy was so awfully confused then, even though the signs of cat-and-mouse couldn’t be clearer.

All those years prior, he would sooner have believed the earth was flat with a slightly irritated chuckle, than ever believe that such a thing was even a slight possibility.

But, here in the present, it’s as real as the torrential rain outside and its fluctuating temperatures marking the beginning of spring break, as the lightning and its booming rolls of thunder over the streets, as the paintings that line his walls still painted blue, with white clouds, despite its otherwise total conversion into a plain, almost always unoccupied, guest room.

It’s as real as the backpack he has, that he rummages through not to pull out his calculus notebook—oh no—but for something much more mindless and entertaining.

A toy, the child’s kind, undeniably tangible as he turns it in his hands.

It’s just a generic old teddy bear from the bargain bin of a random store, brown with beady black eyes, shining in the light of the desk lamp as he sets it down on the night stand near the bed now memory foam-soft and queen-sized, with white sheets.

Sure enough, he earns a snicker from behind him, arms littered in tattoos already running out of space coiling around his neck.

“Tell me,” a voice that had haunted, teased, existed alongside him for his entire childhood says, closer to his ear than could ever be merely friendly, “why’d you waste three bucks on that thing, again?”

Andy shrugs him off, although he’s smiling. “I don’t know. Maybe I was bored, shopping for all the stupid things we forgot to pack, or maybe it was because it was just sitting there on top of the pile of all the others, staring right at me when I turned the corner, practically calling my name,” he laughs.

“Do you think toys can talk?”

Andy’s grin falls. “What? Toys, talk? Well, I guess, in a way, when you want them to-”

“No, I mean, by themselves,” Sid mutters, eyes wide and deadly serious. “And walk, and move, and watch you while you’re sleeping?”

“Uhh-”

“I’m not joking, Andy,” Sid says, moving forward as Andy scoots backward, all the way until his head meets the headboard, and he has nowhere left to go. “I know it usually seems like I’m joking all the time, or whatever, but I’m not. This time, I’m serious.”

There’s a sudden crash of thunder outside, the rain pouring only heavier out of the window to their side, illuminating half of Sid’s face in bright white, the other a pitch black, before the world goes dark again.

“One night, when I was four, or maybe five, I remember. I remember waking up from a nightmare—one of those ones where you’re falling to your death, y’know?—and just before I hit the ground, I saw something standing over me. Know what it was?”

“One of your toys?”

“Uh-huh,” Sid nods, whites of his eyes still showing as his voice shows not a hint of humour in it, “one of my toys. The one with the hook and the Barbie legs glued to it, if you remember.”

“I’d rather not...”

“Yeah, well,” Sid holds his breath, other than to talk, Andy doing the same, naturally, “it was on top of me. Its two plastic feet on my chest, so light I couldn’t even feel it. But oh, I saw it. With my own two eyes. And it just stared back at me, without anything to stare with. But I knew it was glaring at me, the way it was just craning over me in my sleep. Then I blinked, and it was gone, disappeared, without a trace. I searched with shaking hands and an unshakeable feeling of dread for the next hour for it: under my bed, in my closet, through all my things. But I never did find it again. Not to this day.”

Andy has no words.

Slowly, Sid leans back.

And then, everything changes.

He claps his hands together at the same time a strike of lightning and pop of thunder does outside, too, his grimace transforming into a wide smile, blinking every remaining bit of joylessness right out of his face.

“Pretty good scary story, huh, Andy?!” he pats the man on the back, hard enough he makes a little “oof” noise. “Hahaha, you should’ve seen your face! I really had you there, huh? Well, I gotta give it to Mother Nature, this stormy night is just perfect for spooky tales!”

Andy blinks, shaking his head as he comes to reality enough to formulate a sentence: “Oh, ha ha ha, good one, Sid... Yeah, I’ll admit, you did have me for a second there, but now that I think about it, there’s just no way that could happen.”

“Mhm,” the other hums, but never leaves his spot of pinning the other to the headboard of the bed, his hand staying stuck to his shoulder, as his smile slowly slips away again, “just no way...” he’s murmuring, drawing nearer, “that could possibly be real...” his lips are right against Andy’s, eyes mere slits, “right?”

The immediate kiss renders Andy unable to speak, not that he would have much to say, anyway.

He’s half-occupied still thinking over Sid’s “story”, how it was just too weird, too specific, to simply be a story.

But _how_ could it be real?

Toys can’t watch you. Everyone who wasn’t absolutely insane knows that, of course. It was probably just a remnant from his nightmare, sleep paralysis or whatever, especially if it was only there for a second, right after he was just beginning to re-enter the waking world, mind still hazy with dreams.

But still...

Sid finally relents from the kiss with loud laughter—remembering a second too late he should be quiet, so late into the night—giving Andy some space to recoup and breathe, only to see him having an apparent eye contest with the teddy bear right next to them on the night stand, its unmoving black eyes facing right at them.

“Oh, what, Davis?” Sid teases, glancing between his flushed face and the toy, “Is it bothering you, voyeuring us? It’s just a little teddy bear, and like I said, it’s just a silly story!” he laughs.

Andy squints as he turns back to Sid. And this time, it’s him who pulls the noirette closer, prompting his legs to straddle Andy’s to either side.

“Then why did you put all your toys in a box, and leave it in the yard of the abandoned house across the street?”

“You... you saw that?”

“Yep. I always thought it was just another weird thing you were doing. But it was to get rid of them, or more optimistically, to set them free, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know- I mean,” Sid sighs, putting his forehead to Andy’s as he closes his eyes. “Yes. I just, just couldn’t stand to see them anymore. It sounds so stupid, but I just always got so anxious from then on when I looked at any of them, like I made myself develop a fear of God damn kid’s toys.”

“What happened to the box?”

“I really, really wanted to just leave it there forever, forget about it. Schrödinger’s cat, there were toys in it, there weren’t, I shouldn’t think about it. But I did anyway. So I just had to look. I looked just the next morning, and you know what?”

“... What?”

“It was empty.”

There’s silence for a while. And even though they were just silly toys, dolls, purely entertaining things, they couldn’t help but feel the fear that only a child does: the all-consuming, heart-racing, palpitating dread of a monster that could only exist in one’s head, at the thought that every night, every day, perhaps, just maybe, their little toys could be perfectly sentient, the whole time.

Somewhere out there, even now, pretending to be merely an object. Misplacing themselves, so you thought you just forgot you moved it, but really, they’d moved. All on their own.

Always watching. Smile forced on their painted faces. Unblinking. Alive without breathing.

Andy clears his throat, eager to end the odd silence. “Maybe someone took them.”

“Yeah,” Sid murmurs, glancing behind him even then, “yeah, let’s go with that.”

“Anyway,” Sid looks back, smiling at his boyfriend who seems to literally brighten the mood—certainly take the edge off the fear, to be in the safety of another, anyway, “it was a long plane ride back home, right? 3 hours in the damn airports, another 3 in a cramped cabin in turbulence, whew! And then we had to drive another half-hour, and-”

“Are you saying you want to sleep, or you want to have sex?”

Sid chuckles at Andy’s bluntness. “Both, but in reverse order.”

“Mm,” Andy hums, letting those lips meet his again, stronger arms pin his own against the headboard, grinding a knee between his legs to make him catch his breath.

Sid is right, all the damn stress of travelling and packing and unpacking, it had really taken a number out of him, made him eager to at least get back to the familiarity of doing something with the one constant between cities.

It didn’t necessarily have to be sex, but hey, he’s not complaining.

So they’re both pretty pent-up, and quick to get hot and heavy and hard in just a few minutes. The rough feeling of the jeans on Sid’s knee, the heat of his own cock rutting into Andy’s hip, doing wonders for the brunette who makes his pleasure audible, as always.

“Hm, let’s see,” he hears a low voice right into his ear, sliding down to his neck to bite at it, “what should I berate you for this time, huh? About how I knew you just couldn’t wait to get home so I could fuck you the entire trip, that you were still mad that I didn’t fuck you like you wanted to last morning? That you’re a slut, who always wants to take it up the ass, no matter how goody you make yourself look to everyone else, huh?”

This was an interesting thing Sid liked to do: to humiliate him, however possible. Usually it stuck to verbal, but if he thought he could get away with it, he might very well try physical, situational: usually just semi-public sex in clothing stores or public forests, but nothing where the fear of being caught was ever really more than a possibility only in their minds.

But oh, either way, what his mouth could do.

Maybe if he applied himself like Andy always complained about, he could be a poet or something, but not the thinking variety. Oh no, his mind was utterly filthy, and while most people could deduce that from spending a few moments in his company, Andy got to hear it full-force, in the form of vivid, lacerating words with a voice dripping sex, eye-opening sentences that turned mediocre situations into acts of pure, undeniable sin.

But clearly, he does like it to some degree, else he would’ve told him to stop a long time ago. And Sid would’ve accepted, disappointed, but fully understanding.

Like right now, those provoking words, they force Andy to moan, before he slaps his hand over his own mouth, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Ah,” Sid grins, “good point, Andy. Maybe it should be about how you’re letting me fuck you in your old folk’s home, while your mom and your sister sleep just a few rooms down the hall? What a dirty whore, to defile their home like that, take advantage of their hospitality, right under their noses. Not that you haven’t let me do it plenty of times before,” he snickers.

Sid knows that Andy loves the dirty talk, can see it, feel it, as he pulls his cock from his pants, rubbing the head of it once, twice, then ripping them all the way down his legs, onto the floor.

He does the same to his own jeans, slipping his tongue down Andy’s throat all the while, while his hands are busy. Andy’s claw through his hair, not daring to jerk himself off despite his twitching, leaking erection, knowing the reprimand that would follow. If not physical—and he liked that, too, _a lot_ —then again, with that voice of venom.

Both finally free of their lower garments, Sid sits right back down, not interrupting the kiss for a second. This time, though, he spreads Andy’s legs with both of his, pushing him even harder against the headboard with his warm, strong chest, one hand pulling at Andy’s hair while the other snakes under the hem of his t-shirt.

“Oh,” he grins, looking down as his finger prods at a certain, very special spot, “already did the hard work for me, huh? When’d you do that? Had to be a few hours ago at most, right? I know you probably just did it a minute ago while you were in the bathroom, but I like to think you could’ve done it on the plane,” he chuckles darkly.

“I do have to thank you, though, Andy,” he huffs against his lips, inserting a few fingers with ease, “I’ll admit, I’m also so eager to fuck you that it’s kind of embarrassing, heheh. Maybe it’s your room, huh? Still painted blue, must be so nostalgic for you, right? Too bad the youngest I saw it, I was already a teenager, pretending to get your help on math homework so we could watch movies and make out. Hm, maybe I am a bit nostalgic, after all.”

He continues stretching his fingers inside of the other, listening to his moans muffled by his own lips, unable to resist reaching down and jacking off to the sight, sounds of Andy.

“Do you remember when you lost your virginity to me, in this exact room? Huh? Answer me.”

“Y-yes,” Andy stutters, reduced to little more than a whining, panting, red mess under his childhood bully.

“Remember how much it hurt? How good it felt afterward? How I fucked you with obvious inexperience, but enough eagerness to make up for it? I remember you cumming when I wasn’t even halfway done, that must’ve been so humiliating, but I didn’t know if it was okay to insult you for it, at the time.

“But now,” he moves, entire bed shifting as he positions himself between Andy’s legs, against his hips, hands slipping away, “I do know that that’s okay. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, oh, G-God, Sid,” Andy whimpers into his mouth, eyes squeezed shut as he spreads his thighs further. “F-fuck me, please, I-I just want you to fuck me, S-Sid.”

“I love it when you beg,” he praises him, fingers gripping his hips tight, “just for that, I’ll give you what you want, my filthy slut.”

He might’ve been stretched for entire minutes with three of Sid’s long fingers, but being fucked open for the first time of the day is always quite the task. So when he inevitably squeals, Sid slaps fingers covered in his own pre-cum against his lips. And once he calms down—the head safely inside—he slips a finger between into his mouth, forcing him to suck it clean of his bitter semen.

“Quiet, Andy,” Sid whispers, raising his ass a bit higher so he can sink all the way to his hilt, impaling him on his cock, “I know you love to moan like a bitch in heat, but just this once, you’re gonna have to shut up, else they’ll all wake up. And that would be just awful, wouldn’t it?”

He allows a few seconds for Andy to get used to the feeling of being full, hole squeezing tight, so tight, around his thick cock. But he knows he’s just as impatient as he is, maybe even more, really, so begins to draw out, pushing right back in after he’s freed up to his cock head.

“But then again, this is already pretty awful, isn’t it?” he laughs, preferring a deep, slower pace, so the slaps of their meeting hips are lessened somewhat. It’s still definitely audible, and quite embarrassing for Andy beneath him, but not nearly as loud as it could be, when he’s fucking him as hard and fast as he can.

“Getting fucked by me, of all guys, it’s the worst thing imaginable, isn’t it? I can tell, everyone who meets you, then me, they wonder how the fuck you could ever fall for such a deadbeat, someone without any of the promise or potential that you have so much of. Even your family, they’re nice to me and all, but I can tell, they’d much rather you be with a pretty girl from your college, than a sadistic fuck like me.”

Andy can only moan, eyes rolling back in his skull, wondering how in the world Sid can thrust so deep and hard consistently, let alone prattle off entire paragraphs simplifying to what a slut he was.

“But this is why, isn’t it?” Sid grunts, fucking him even harder as the headboard slides quietly against the wall, fingernails digging into his sides as Andy’s cock leaks like a tap from the constant prostate stimulation. “I fuck you so hard and so deep every day, you’d keep me around for my cock, if nothing else. I bet you wish I could just fuck you all day, all the time, in class, at work, no matter what, if only you fucking could.”

They’re drawing dangerously close to their ends, Andy’s ass red with his brutal thrusts, heat pooling in both of their lower abdomens as a sure sign that they were about to orgasm any second now.

But Sid manages to get one last word in, somehow: “I know you love being watched, listened to, thought about. You might never admit it, but I know you do, maybe even more than I like the thought of it. Otherwise,” he thrusts hard, right against his prostate to make him bite a scream into his own palm, “why would you always cum within minutes, squeeze around my cock whenever I bring it up, huh? Even now, somewhere in the back of your mind-”

Suddenly, Andy’s chin is lifted, forcing his eyes open to stare right into Sid’s dark, lidded ones.

 _“The toy is watching,”_ he spits, at the same exact time he thrusts in for the last time, burying his cock deep as he breeds his seed into Andy’s hole. Their worlds explode in white behind their shut eyes, as Andy’s own cock cums across their chests, smearing between their skin still pressed firmly together, arms wrapped tight around Sid as they both feel pure bliss.

Then they come down, gently but quickly. Back to reality, where they can only catch their breaths, let their overheated bodies cool from the vigorous activity of sex.

A minute later, Sid’s still inside of him, on top of him, cock surrounded by the heat of his well-fucked hole, sticky with his own cum he’d shot deep inside of it. Growing limp, he slowly pulls himself out, both of them grimacing a little at the feeling of separating, but knowing it’s fully necessary.

Sid falls to the other side of the bed, rethinking the great sex he just had with fondness already, when he hears a voice beside him.

“It’s gone.”

He doesn’t even bother blinking his eyes, just smiling. “What’s gone?”

“The toy,” Andy says, voice shaking slightly, “it’s gone.”

He does open his eyes at that.

And sure enough, there’s no teddy bear on the night stand.

Just thin air, no sign or trace of the stupid plushie that was there just a few minutes ago.

“You took it,” they both accuse the other at the exact same time, eyes going wide as they realize that that probably isn’t the case, then.

Which meant only one thing.

They look to the door.

The slightest bit cracked.

Just enough for a teddy bear.

“Welp!” Sid exclaims, getting up and shutting the door, reaping through his bag for a tissue and his sleep pants and using both, then racing back to bed, throwing the cover over his head as though that would block out what just happened, “I’m going to sleep!”

Andy looks at him, then back to the night stand.

And before he gets up to go to the bathroom to clean the sperm out of his insides and off his stomach, then sliding on his own cosy pyjamas and joining his partner in slumberland, he wonders.

How many times had his own toys been forced to watch any number of atrocities he’d committed in the sanctity of his own room, when he thought no one was looking?

He bites his lip, and decides not to think about it.

Ever. Again.

**Author's Note:**

> * * *
> 
> _Check me out for updates and art and stuff! <3 _
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> * * *
> 
> Welp, I hope somehow that was interesting! :) Lol! Fr though, the toys being alive is not only pretty damn creepy, but a pretty awful existence for the toys, as well, when you think about it. Being tossed around like, well, a toy; the inevitability of abandonment/having to move on; the fact that they continue to live somehow even when they’re dismembered or cut in half or some shit, like at what point would they finally even die? 
> 
> All that is to say, thanks for reading, lmao! :D


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